


spread like a flame

by punkrightnow



Category: Rocket Punch (Band)
Genre: :), Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, bullying kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:49:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24714853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkrightnow/pseuds/punkrightnow
Summary: “And anyway,” Suyun continues, face flushed, drink still sloshing back and forth in her hand, “I only bully you ‘cause you’re so damnprettyall the time.”In which Suyun is a (tall) little shit and Yunkyoung is an idiot.
Relationships: Kim Suyun/Seo Yunkyoung
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28





	spread like a flame

Yunkyoung is sitting towards the back of the lecture hall, finishing off the last of her notes on the Romantic era, when suddenly Mr. Nam claps his hands and makes the announcement that turns Yunkyoung’s otherwise normal week into living hell.

“Okay class, now that we’ve finished the module, it’s time for some oral presentations!” he says cheerfully, as if the single worst assignment you can get at university is something to be happy about. 

Yunkyoung massages her temples, letting the pressure ease her into a shallow sense of calm. Around her, students she barely knows groan complaints at Mr. Nam, who’s still laughing good-naturedly at the front of the class. It isn’t just _giving_ oral presentations that she hates—it’s also the fact that she doesn’t know any of her classmates well enough to work with. Well, except for…

Yunkyoung sneaks a glance at the row in front of her, where a tall girl is yawning, stretched back in her seat. A wave of black hair blocks her face from view, but Yunkyoung already has it burned into memory: clear eyes, sharp chin, and a wide, gummy smile, that always seems to grow when it’s making fun of Yunkyoung. 

_Kim Suyun_. The tall, pretty asshole whose main goal in life appears to be making Yunkyoung miserable.

Actually, scratch that, working with strangers isn’t what Yunkyoung’s afraid of—not when Suyun is the alternative, anyway.

“Kim Jiyeon, you’ll be working with Ahn Hyejin,” Mr. Nam begins, the complaints having gone in one ear and out the other. “Bong Jaehyun, you’ll be working with Kim Jibeom…”

Yunkyoung shuts her eyes, hands clasped in prayer. _Not Suyun. Not Suyun. Not Suyun._

“…Choi Sungyoon, you’ll be working with Lee Dayeol…”

 _Not Suyun. Not Suyun._ Anybody _but Suyun._

“…Seo Yunkyoung, you’ll be working with Kim Suyun…”

Yunkyoung sighs. _Typical._

Resentfully, she buries her head in her hands, trying not to release the demonic wail she can feel building up inside of her. When she finally calms down enough to peek at her partner through her fingers, the bitch is already looking back and fucking _smirking,_ two slim fingers raised in greeting.

Yunkyoung has never wanted to die so much.

“Guess I’m stuck with you then, midget!” Suyun chirps as they file out of the lecture hall, and nevermind, the record’s already broken—with every extra inch that Suyun’s smile stretches, Yunkyoung wants to die just a little bit more.

The day doesn’t get much better from there. The sky clouds over, Yunkyoung is late to her next class, and lunch with Yeonhee proves much less cathartic than she was expecting; not only is Yeonhee too functional to understand her fear of presentations, but she also seems to have no idea how much of an asshole Suyun is.

“Wait, Suyun? As in Kim Suyun? What could you possibly have against _her?”_ her roommate asks around a mouthful of rice, looking genuinely confused.

“What could you possibly not?” Yunkyoung shoots back, equally confused. “Literally the first thing she ever said to me was ‘woah, you’re fucking tiny.’ There’s no way I’m the only person she harasses.”

Yeonhee blinks at her. “I dunno, I take some foundation courses with her and she’s like, super sweet.”

Yunkyoung’s scowl deepens as she feels a familiar prick of anger and insecurity—the default emotions wherever Suyun was involved, it seemed. “Well, then, I guess it’s just me.”

Picking moodily at her vegetables, she thinks back on her encounters with Suyun so far. They first met in orientation, where Suyun took one look at her and immediately started making fun of her height; since then, with every interaction, she’s somehow managed to find another thing to mock. Yunkyoung was ‘no fun’ when Suyun bumped into her in the library, ‘a bit slow’ when Yunkyoung didn’t fully grasp a poem in class, and ‘wow, lazy too?’ when she ran into her at a party, and Yunkyoung mentioned that she didn’t get out much. 

_It’s true, though,_ Yunkyoung realises, _she doesn’t treat anybody else like that._ So Suyun isn’t a total asshole, then—she just hates Yunkyoung in particular.

She lets this information sink in, a little bitterly, and stabs at her food with renewed vigour.

“Oh, come on, I’m sure it won’t be _that_ bad,” Yeonhee says, patting Yunkyoung’s hair in what she must think is a soothing gesture. And it is, but Yunkyoung’s feeling sulky right now, so she bats the hand away without deigning to respond. 

Yeonhee’s wrong. It _will_ be that bad, and no amount of headpats are going to change that.

Their first meeting is at the library. Yunkyoung walks through the entrance, sees Suyun lounging by the window, and immediately feels like death.

Suyun looks up, brightening when she spots her. “Sup, midget!” she calls cheerily, unfazed by the looks the other students give her.

“Can you _please_ stop calling me that,” Yunkyoung snaps, dropping into the seat across from her with an angry plop. Without looking at Suyun, who she’s sure is already grinning sadistically, she pulls out her stationary and resolves to get this over with as quickly as possible.

“A notebook,” Suyun observes, raising her eyebrows. “Primitive much?”

Yunkyoung scowls. “I like paper, okay?”

“Alright, you boring old woman,” Suyun teases. She reaches into her bag to take out an iPad Pro, tapping the screen with a long, condescending finger. “See, this is how we take notes in the _modern_ age.”

“That’s great and all,” Yunkyoung deadpans, “but we’re here to plan a presentation, not to have a pissing contest over technology.”

Suyun gasps, bringing a hand to her chest in mock outrage. “Did Seo Yunkyoung just say _piss?_ Disgraceful!”

Yunkyoung sighs, closing her eyes against the headache she can already feel growing in her sinuses. Suyun’s laughter is bright, raspy, and loud, ringing in her ears like fucking chronic tinnitis. _This is going to be a very long day,_ she thinks mournfully, already resigning herself to an hour of sleep and ibuprofen when she gets home.

Surprisingly, though, they finish up fairly quickly; it turns out that Suyun is an efficient worker when she wants to be, at least. They spend about twenty minutes narrowing their focus to Lord Byron’s use of natural imagery, and another thirty or so heatedly debating which specific poems they want to analyse. Yunkyoung is dimly aware that she’s actually _enjoying_ herself by the end of it, which feels so odd in the context of Suyun that she decides it must be a side-effect of the headache.

“Then it’s settled. I’ll look at extracts from _Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage,_ and you’ll look at extracts from _Don Juan._ Unless it’s too much work for you, of course?” Suyun says about an hour later, eyes twinkling.

Yunkyoung’s head throbs. Yeah, nevermind—there’s no way she’s enjoying herself, not when Suyun is still the living embodiment of a migraine. She lets out a huff, shoving things roughly back in her bag; she’s not staying here for any longer than strictly necessary.

“It’s not. I already told you, I _like_ Lord Byron,” she says tightly.

“I know,” Suyun says, rolling her eyes. “You’re always talking about him.”

Yunkyoung frowns. “You listen to me in class?”

Suyun blinks. “Uh,” she says. “No. It’s just—you talk about him a lot _._ ” She licks her lips. “Creep.”

“…Sure,” Yunkyoung responds suspiciously. For some reason, Suyun is avoiding her eyes. “Well, bye, I guess.”

Suyun waves as she walks off, looking uncharacteristically tense. _Weird,_ Yunkyoung thinks, but then again, Suyun has never really made sense to begin with. She sighs. If Suyun hated her just a little bit less, she wonders if they would have been friends, or even…

“Wow, that is a stupid and entirely irrelevant train of thought,” she mutters aloud, trying to block out the sudden heat that rises in her cheeks.

A few more presentation meetings later, Yeonhee invites Yunkyoung to the university’s seasonal dance showcase. They’re waiting for Yeonhee’s cousin, Dahyun, outside of the venue, when Yunkyoung discovers that this was a very bad idea.

 _“Suyun_ is on your dance team?” Yunkyoung asks, feeling betrayed. 

“Yeah,” Yeonhee says, worrying her lip. She’s dressed in a suit jacket and a pair of shorts, hair stylishly messy; Yunkyoung thinks she looks like an idol. “Sorry, god, I completely forgot to mention it. Do you mind? I know you two have…issues.”

“We _do_ have issues,” Yunkyoung agrees vehemently, but Yeonhee’s eyes are just so innocent—it’s like staring down a bunny. She sighs. “It’s okay, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Yeonhee beams, letting out a little cheer of gratitude; reluctantly, Yunkyoung finds herself smiling as well. The topic of Yunkyoung’s tormentor is dropped, and they chat idly until Dahyun arrives, a meek-looking friend in tow.

“Dahyun! You came!” Yeonhee cries, throwing herself at the new arrivals. “And you brought Sohee, too!”

Dahyun wrinkles her nose and shoves Yeonhee away, as the meek-looking girl— _Sohee,_ Yunkyoung thinks—waves nervously. “Get _off,_ Yeonhee. You’re so embarrassing, what the hell.”

“I know,” Yeonhee laughs, then straightens up, looking serious. “Right, well, I need to head backstage.” She turns to Yunkyoung, apologetic. “Keep an eye on them, will you?”

“Uh, sure,” Yunkyoung stammers, as Yeonhee hurries back into the building. She turns to face the two teenagers—Dahyun looks distinctly unimpressed, and Sohee’s just smiling awkwardly at the ground. “Okay, follow me,” she says, hoping she sounds at least somewhat authoritative.

They manage to find their seats with minimal incident, and Yunkyoung leaves the highschoolers to chat as she zones out on her own. She claps politely through the first few performances, then sits up a little straighter when she sees Yeonhee peeking out from backstage.

“Our next performers are a pop dance team called Rocket, consisting of Lee Mijoo, Kim Yeonhee, and Kim Suyun!” the announcer calls. There is applause, a couple of muted whoops, and three reluctant cries of ‘Lee Mijoo I love you!’ that Yunkyoung suspects were bribed. “Tonight, they’ll be performing their original choreography to Little Mix’s _Woman Like Me!”_

The dancers step out one by one as the announcer leaves, taking their positions carefully in the centre of the stage. _They look great,_ Yunkyoung thinks, admiring their outfits and makeup, and the air of intense focus surrounding their movements. Even Suyun looks good, in combat boots, high-waisted shorts, and a loose, fancy crop top that flows when she moves. 

And then the music starts, and suddenly Yunkyoung can’t breathe.

Suyun moves like a ballerina, with all the force of a freight train; like a siren, if sirens cast magic with dance instead of song. Her whole body is a smooth, sensuous stream of water, flowing from one movement to the next in the space of a single breath. She dances like she was born for it. Like it was _made_ for her. Like Yunkyoung is just another inevitable, awestruck victim of the storm that is Suyun.

 _Fuck,_ Yunkyoung thinks, with the one part of her brain that’s still working.

“Who’s that girl you’re staring at?” Dahyun murmurs from beside her. Yunkyoung barely hears her—her mouth is dry, her throat uncomfortably tight.

“Yeonhee, of course,” she replies, even as her eyes are fixed on Suyun’s long legs, Suyun’s lithe waist, Suyun’s slim, graceful hands. Swallowing, she looks up, and realises with a start that the asshole is staring straight back—Suyun’s gaze is smouldering, her smirk bold and hypnotic, and it’s only when she has the audacity to _wink_ that Yunkyoung finally looks away, flushing.

Dahyun, having watched the entire exchange with open disgust, snorts. _“Yeonhee_ has had a massive growth spurt before the performance, then,” she says dryly. “And tons of plastic surgery, too.”

Yunkyoung doesn’t even have the presence of mind to respond. One-upped by a high school student—and of course it’s Suyun’s fault, to boot.

She’s still flustered when Yeonhee rejoins them at the end of the showcase, flushed with pride and well-deserved compliments; somehow, though, all of Yunkyoung’s praise— _so pretty, so cool, you danced so well!—_ feels like it’s meant for someone else. Then she glimpses Suyun out of the corner of her vision, sweaty and beaming, and remembers why.

 _It’s not a crush or anything, though,_ she tells herself firmly. _It’s just, I dunno, reluctant attraction at most._

And then Suyun meets her eyes with a delighted, toothy smile, and Yunkyoung feels that reluctance beginning to crumble.

Their next presentation meeting is in the coffee shop at city centre, and Suyun, thankfully, has company.

“Seo Yunkyoung, meet Takahashi Juri,” Suyun says, after they’re seated with drinks and pastries. Yunkyoung shifts uncomfortably, avoiding Suyun’s eyes; she can’t shake the feeling that if she were to meet them directly, the asshole would somehow just _know._ “Takahashi Juri, meet Seo Yunkyoung.”

“Hi,” Yunkyoung greets, grateful for the distraction.

“Hello!” the distraction responds, in an adorably heavy Japanese accent.

Takahashi Juri is cute, polite, and _much_ better company than Suyun, Yunkyoung decides after approximately five seconds. She’s here on an exchange programme from Tokyo, eager to learn, and roommates with Suyun, who promised to tour the city with her today. She was assured that the meeting was insignificant enough for her to join without issue—and yes, Suyun adds from the sidelines, Yunkyoung’s just _that_ insignificant to her.

“Kim Suyun!” Juri scolds, cheeks puffing out angrily. “Do not be mean!”

Suyun just laughs. “You can’t tell me what to do,” she teases, standing up just as Juri moves in to whack her. “And on that note, I’m going to the bathroom.” She turns to Yunkyoung. “Don’t bore her, okay?”

Yunkyoung glares as she strides away, about to make a scathing retort—and then her eyes drop to Suyun’s hips, and the words fall straight out of her head. She reddens. One dance, and now she’s too flustered to even _talk—_ why does Suyun always have to make things so hard?

“I am sorry of her,” Juri says, staring morosely at her coffee. “She is big idiot, sometimes.”

“No, don’t apologize!” Yunkyoung says quickly. “It’s her fault, not yours, after all.”

“That is true,” Juri concedes. They sit in a dejected silence for a moment, before she frowns and looks up, eyes serious. “But you _do_ know that she is not being truthful, yes?”

Yunkyoung blinks. “You mean, like, she doesn’t mean what she says?”

“Yes,” Juri says, nodding. “She is just…ah…” She trails off, letting out a frustrated huff. “Ahh, so annoying! What is the word?”

“Mean?” Yunkyoung offers, sipping at her mug. “Rude? Irritating? An asshole?”

“No, no!” Juri says, shaking her head vigorously. “She is just…just…” She closes her eyes, brow furrowed in concentration, until suddenly she brightens. “Shy! Yes, shy!”

Yunkyoung almost chokes on her coffee. “Shy? _Suyun?”_

Juri nods. “She is like little boy,” she explains earnestly, ignoring Yunkyoung’s obvious incredulity. “She likes you, but does not know what to do, so, ah…” She frowns, then mimes boxing. “Punch?”

“You’re saying she’s only mean to me because she likes me,” Yunkyoung translates skeptically.

“Yes!” Juri beams. “Yes, you understand!”

Yunkyoung sighs. “Sorry, Juri, but I’m not sure you know what ‘like’ mea—”

The screech of a chair cuts her off mid-sentence, and Yunkyoung startles, looking up to see Suyun dropping back into her seat. “Talking about me?” she asks, looking amused when Yunkyoung immediately slams her mouth shut.

“No,” she responds stiffly.

The rest of the meeting is standard fare. Lulls where Yunkyoung would usually be grumbling at Suyun are instead filled with Juri’s endless questions (‘His name is Lord?’ ‘But child is not spelling with e!’ ‘Why _Juan_ is _Huan?’_ and so on); if Suyun finds Yunkyoung’s sudden silence strange, she doesn’t mention it, and they spend the next half hour putting the finishing touches on their powerpoint.

It’s getting late. Yunkyoung turns her head to gaze out of the window, distracted. Memories of Suyun play through her head, smirks changing into smiles, her own irritation into bashfulness. If Juri’s right—if Suyun’s mean to her because she _likes_ her, not hates her—then what? Would Yunkyoung like her back? Would they date, or something? What if Yunkyoung _already_ kind of likes her back? 

“Woah, your nose is like, sharp as fuck,” Suyun says suddenly, wrenching her back to reality. Yunkyoung jerks her head away from the window; Suyun is staring at her, somewhat flustered, as if she hadn’t meant to say it out loud. Yunkyoung lets the words sink in with confusion, then anger—nevermind, there’s no way this is anything but stupid, thoughtless hatred.

“What, you’re going to insult my appearance now, too?” she snaps, fixing Suyun with a piercing glare.

“Huh? What, no!” Suyun says quickly, taken aback. She looks down, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks. “I just—it’s, uh, pretty.”

Yunkyoung blinks, deflating. _Wait, what?_ She glances over at Juri, who gives her a subtle, I-told-you-so wink.

 _So maybe Juri isn’t_ totally _wrong,_ she muses, allowing herself a tiny smile. She’ll think more on it later; for now it’s just nice to know that Suyun _can_ do things besides teasing, after all.

‘Later’ never really comes.

The day of their final meeting before the presentation is, without exaggeration, Yunkyoung’s worst day since the start of university. In the morning, it’s Yeonhee; at noon, it’s the careers counsellor; and in the afternoon, it’s her parents, each worse than the last. _Yunkyoung-ah, try to make up your mind soon, okay? Miss Seo, you really have to start thinking more about your future. Honey, we let you apply for liberal arts because we thought you’d choose something_ else _by now. What are you still doing without a specialty?_

By the time she gets to the library, the sun is setting, and she’s been on the verge of a breakdown for nearly ten hours. The sight of Suyun sprawled by the window is reassuring, for once; here’s one person, at least, who she can trust to have no expectations for her.

“Hey, midg…woah,” Suyun says, eyes widening as Yunkyoung all but collapses into the seat beside her. She opens her mouth, closes it, opens it again. “Are you, uh, are you okay?”

“No,” Yunkyoung says shortly, whipping out her computer with much more force than necessary.

Suyun shifts in her seat, for once seeming unsure what to say. After a pause, she pulls out a pencil and some cue cards, setting them on the table with a tentative smile.

“See?” she says feebly. “I have paper too, this time.”

“Ha ha,” Yunkyoung deadpans, not even pretending to look.

There is an awkward silence. Suyun wrings her hands, looking unusually helpless; Yunkyoung would feel bad for her, if she were in the mood for that. But…goddammit, this presentation shouldn’t even _matter,_ if everyone’s so convinced her degree won’t amount to anything anyways.

“Do you,” Suyun starts, then trails off immediately. She licks her lips. “Do you, uh, want to talk about it?”

Yunkyoung’s head jerks up. Hesitantly, she opens her mouth, then shuts it again less than a second later, thoughts jumbled.

On the one hand, Suyun is an asshole, and not really someone she wants to confide in right now; on the other hand, she’s probably not _trying_ to be an asshole, and Yunkyoung feels ready to explode with frustration anyways. Then she meets Suyun’s eyes—clear, pretty, and uncommonly sincere—and decides, _fuck it, yes, I’m desperate._

“I just hate _everything,”_ she blurts, voice coming out somewhere between a whimper and a scream. The words burst out of her like water from a dam; it’d take a whole tidal barrage to stop them now. “I’m a liberal arts major, right, and I _like_ it. I like doing a bit of everything! I like not having a specialty! But for some reason, nobody seems to _give_ a shit, you know? They’re all like, Yunkyoung, how are you going to get a job? Yunkyoung, don’t you want to do something _more_ with life?”

A few students glance nervously in Yunkyoung’s direction; she ignores them. Suyun’s face is the picture of surprise: mouth open, eyes wide, eyebrows involuntarily raised.

“It’s like, everyone thinks I have to have some big plan for the future, or something. Yeonhee does. Yeonhee’s doing _medicine_ , for fuck’s sake—she’s already confident enough in her decisions to throw away fourteen years of her _life_ for it _,_ just like that. I can’t do that. Fucking hell, I just want to enjoy myself while I still can! Is that so wrong?” She pauses, breathing hard. Then, with more violence: _“Is that so wrong?”_

With that, the worst of her frustration surges out, leaving her throat uncomfortably hoarse. There’s more to say—there always is, always a few insecurities that take a bit longer to pry out of her thoughts—but as usual, Suyun finds her voice first, and Yunkyoung lets the words die on her tongue.

“N-no, of course not,” she says, blinking away the last of her surprise. “No, that’s—I’m sorry that’s happening to you, liberal arts is a totally valid area of study.”

“Yeah, I know,” Yunkyoung huffs, ignoring the whispered _but really though?_ that echoes inevitably in the back of her head. “But thanks.”

“Uh, you’re welcome.” Suyun rubs at her neck. “So,” she continues lamely, “back to Byron?”

“Sure,” Yunkyoung says, trying not to sound too obviously disappointed. The few things she’s left unsaid are weighing heavily in her throat. “Sure, yeah, back to Byron. Sorry.”

“Don’t mention it,” Suyun says, looking relieved.

They move back into their normal routine, Suyun eagerly, Yunkyoung feeling somewhat strained. As they sort out their notes, her eyes catch on _Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage,_ and she tenses; the words ‘so plain a tale—this lowly lay of mine’ are highlighted in bright yellow.

 _Yunkyoung is a wonderful student, really, I just wonder if there’s a subject she might be better off pursuing…?_ Her high school teachers’ reassurances, echoing awkwardly in her memories. _Oh, honey, I’m sure there’s_ something _you’re good at. Even your brother didn’t know what to do at first._ Her parents’ over-thin smiles, unconvincing even as they console her. _Yeah, I can’t really imagine Yunkyoung majoring in anything,_ _to be honest._ Her friends’ laughter, not even cruel; Yunkyoung standing to the side, unseen. _Like, she’s just so…average, you know?_

Childe Harold was an edgy traveller, not an insecure university student; Yunkyoung knows she’s reading into something that isn’t there. _But then again, what_ do _I know?_ she thinks sourly. _It’s not like I’ve ever been that good with poetry._

“I was thinking we could split the introduction slides between us,” Suyun is saying, swiping two cue cards from the top of the pile. Yunkyoung drags herself out of her thoughts, trying to focus; the presentation feels somehow very far away. “The rest of it is pretty straightforward, so maybe let’s get that out of the way first?”

“Okay.”

“Alright, well…I think _Childe Harold_ is more relevant to Byron’s background, so I kind of want to take that bit, if you don’t mind.”

Yunkyoung’s mind is empty. “Sure.”

“Then are you cool with taking the beginning?” Suyun is bent over the table, writing, usually playful eyes sharp with concentration. Yunkyoung finds herself staring at her fingers, maneuvering the pencil with practiced grace.

“Okay.”

“Great, then what do you think about—”

“Wait, wait, sorry, actually…” Yunkyoung’s brain catches up with her mouth, and she cuts off, flustered. The thought of the class’s eyes on her as she breaks the silence is horrifying as ever—she is absolutely _not_ cool with taking the beginning. “I’d rather not do the first slide, if that’s possible.”

“Oh? Why not?” Suyun asks, voice light with a familiar note of teasing. “If it’s too much work for you—”

 _“No,_ god!” Yunkyoung snaps. Can’t Suyun recognise a bad time for assholery when she sees one? “It’s just, like…” She looks at the floor, suddenly feeling vulnerable. 

_Like, she’s just so…average, you know?_

“I don’t think that I should be the one to start,” she admits at last. “I’m not really, uh, great with presentations and stuff.” She worries her lip, thinking. _Maybe I should just say something, if it’s weighing on me this much._ _I mean, all things considered, Suyun isn’t actually_ that _bad—_

“Oh, come on,” Suyun laughs, carefree, “not like you’re really _great_ with anything, though.”

Yunkyoung’s thoughts cut off with a painful snap.

And that’s it—she stands up, chair falling back with a screech, slamming her hand on the table with a resounding bang.The room falls silent.

Leave it to Suyun to summarise her worst insecurity in a sentence. Leave it to Suyun to figure out her weaknesses and capitalise on them instantly. Leave it to Suyun to hear her pour her heart out, act reassuring, and then turn around and stab her where she hurts most.

“You’re a fucking asshole,” she says, the words half-screamed, half-whispered. She can feel the tears in her eyes, the splotchy red coming into her cheeks—it doesn’t matter. Through her watery vision, she’s still glaring at Suyun, who’s looking stricken for probably the first time in her life.

It’s the last thing she sees before she storms out, leaving the library in a tense, awkward hush behind her.

As with so many other things in life, it’s Yeonhee that eventually drags her out of her moping back into reality.

“Yunkyoung, please.” Her roommate’s voice is fuzzy, muffled by the blanket Yunkyoung has refused to leave since crashing into bed last night. “Take a shower. Wash your hair. Get out of bed. It’s _Saturday night ,_ for crying out loud _._ ”

Yunkyoung squirms, tugging the blanket back just enough to see Yeonhee glaring down at her, menacing. Her eyes are narrowed, frown severe, hands placed imposingly on her hips: it’s classic General Yeon.

“Ugh,” Yunkyoung says, pulling the blanket forwards again.

“Yunkyoung, seriously!” 

_“Ugh.”_ A little more emphatically this time.

Ever since leaving the library the previous day, Yunkyoung can’t tell if she’s been feeling progressively more awful or angry. She knows that it’s pointless to obsess over what was probably just an insensitive joke, but holy _shit_ , how insensitive can one person be, and also…

 _It’s just bad,_ she thinks dully. Warming up to someone, trusting them, only to be hurt even worse than she’d expected.

“Seo—Yun— _kyoung!”_

A strong hand tugs at the back of her blanket, flooding the world with extremely unwelcome light and air. Yunkyoung yelps, glaring murderously, but Yeonhee’s already re-folding it as if nothing happened.

“You know what?” her roommate says primly, placing the newly folded bundle at the foot of Yunkyoung’s bed. Yunkyoung groans, curling in on herself; she couldn’t care less what she ‘knows’, it’s fucking _cold—_ “We’re going to a frat party tonight.”

She jolts up. _“What?”_

“If you won’t tell me what’s wrong, then all I can do is drag you to something I know you’ll enjoy, right?” Yeonhee has now moved on to aggressively cleaning up Yunkyoung’s side of the room, ignoring its owner’s incredulous staring.

“And that something is—a _frat party?”_ Yunkyoung splutters. 

“Oh, come on, we’ve all seen you dance,” Yeonhee snorts. Yunkyoung flushes; a few months ago, a video of her drunk dancing made it onto the school’s geofenced snapchat story, and now most students at least dimly recognise her as ‘that one girl who was _really_ feeling the frat EDM.’ “And besides,” Yeonhee continues, “it’s just Jaehyun and Jibeom’s crowd. Come on, you know them. It’ll be fun.”

“Still, I am _absolutely_ not in the mood for—”

“Yunkyoung.” Yeonhee stops cleaning, turning to face her head-on. Yunkyoung swallows; her roommate’s eyes are brimming with concern, so sincere and quintessentially Yeonhee that she can already feel herself caving. “Please. I hate seeing you like this, okay? We can leave whenever you want—I just want to at least _try_ to cheer you up.”

It’s a testament to Yeonhee’s power that Yunkyoung only complains for five more minutes before showering, pulling on some jeans, and following her grumpily out of the room. 

_It_ is _nice to be loved,_ she reflects reluctantly, trying not to let her heart soften any more than it already has.

Actually, fuck love—alcohol is tasty, EDM is terrific, and Yunkyoung is having the time of her fucking _life._

She’s on a table—why is she on a table? Who put her on a table? Who cares?—and there are hordes of undergrads swarming around it and she’s krumping her soul out and it’s _fantastic._ Why was she ever against this? Was she ever against this? Where even is she? _Wow_ that was a lot of tequila.

The beat drops, and Yunkyoung feels her chest compress into a pop. Thinking is for losers—“Yeah, thinking is for losers!” she yells, to drunken cheering—and so she lets her body move however the fuck it wants, how _e_ _ver_ the fuck, man. Stomp, jab, chestpop. Is that a camera over there? Yunkyoung beams at it. Jab, stomp, armswing. Hell _yeah_ this beat goes hard. Chestpop, armswing, stomp—

A slim hand grabs her wrist. Yunkyoung looks down, vision bleary, and notices that she was just in the process of falling off the table.

“Dope,” she says, grinning stupidly.

“Yunkyoung? S’at you?” a voice slurs from somewhere above her. It’s a familiar voice—a _pretty_ voice. Yunkyoung’s grin widens. “Why’re you on th’ table? Gonna get hurt.”

“Not when I’m a fuckin’ dance machine,” Yunkyoung says proudly. “A fuckin’ dance ma _c_ _hine._ ”

Hearty laughter fills the air, and Yunkyoung laughs distractedly with it. She’s still looking at the hand on her wrist, warm and tingly against her skin. She knows this hand. She’s looked at this hand before. But where?

“C’mon,” the pretty voice continues. “Let’s head to th’—to th’—let’s get outta here.”

“Sure!” Yunkyoung says cheerfully. The floor in this room’s pretty nasty, after all; maybe that’s why she was on the table.

Yunkyoung lets the hand lead her off the dance floor, to a quieter part of the house where she can breathe without inhaling sweat. She still feels fantastic— _new challenge, silent krumping!_ —and it’s only when they stop walking that she remembers that hands that are connected to arms, shoulders, and eventually heads. 

Yunkyoung looks up, curious, and promptly screams. 

_“You!”_

Kim Suyun, tall and pretty as ever, tilts her head. “Thas’ kinduva big reaction,” she says confusedly. Then she smirks, lopsided and lovely. “What, miss me?”

Yunkyoung is too stunned to respond. She gapes at Suyun: at the cup in her hand, the stupid smile on her face, her generally stupid face, her stupid hair, the way her stupid jeans hug her thighs—wait, what’s she supposed to be stunned about again?

“You’re the…” Yunkyoung starts, angry and unable to remember why. “You’re the person who…the person…uh…”

“I didn’t know you could dance,” Suyun interrupts, either purposely ignoring her or just too drunk to listen. She’s beaming, eyes sparkling with admiration, as if Yunkyoung is the most impressive thing she’s ever seen. _Something’s not right here,_ Yunkyoung manages to think, through the haze of alcohol that is her brain.

“Been dancing since I was six, too shy to join the team, felt krumpy today,” she explains impatiently, squinting at Suyun with open suspicion. There’s a reason she’s angry; it’s on the tip of her tongue, but something in her subconscious seems intent on keeping it there.

“Woah. Cool. Cooool,” Suyun says dreamily. “Hey, you could totally join _my_ dance team, though! Yeonhee’s there, and plus I wanna see you—”

 _Wait, dance team?_

“Oh, right!” Yunkyoung cries, hands clapping together in triumph. She _does_ know a Suyun in a dance team—she yelled at one just yesterday! “You’re that bitch who’s been bullying me!”

And then the triumph fades, and suddenly Yunkyoung just feels sad; because Suyun _is_ that bitch who’s been bullying her, and she’s also that bitch who was just getting nicer, and she’s _also_ that bitch who Yunkyoung just maybe had a crush on, even if it was a little shallow or random or reluctant. Suyun is the reason she came out tonight at all. Suyun is what she’s been trying to forget this whole time.

Yunkyoung feels herself sobering up now, too much too quickly.

 _Alright, that’s my cue to leave._ She turns around, jaw clenching. _I’ll find Yeonhee, go home, and—_

“Yeah,” Suyun says abruptly, voice so somber that Yunkyoung can’t help looking back in instinctive concern. Suyun’s cheeks are still a tipsy pink, but her face has fallen, her lips dropped into an unadorned frown. “Yeah, I guess that’s true. Sorry.”

“Sorry?” Yunkyoung echoes, baffled. _Kim Suyun is_ sorry? “What do you mean?”

There’s a heavy pause. “I…I’m not that good with, uh, feelings,” Suyun says eventually, slurring replaced with painfully careful enunciation. _No shit,_ Yunkyoung wants to retort, but Suyun looks too sincere to mock in good conscience. “I’m sorry about—I didn’t think…it was a joke. Awful timing, I know.”

“Yeah, it was.”

“I just—” Suyun cuts off, brow knitting in frustration. She takes a swig of her drink, staring fixedly at the floor. “I don’t know, I never know what to do when people are upset. I like annoying you, it’s true, but I never wanted to make you sad.” Yunkyoung feels something flare up inside of her; Suyun seems too wrapped up in her own remorse to notice. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to—”

“Then why are you _always bullying me?”_ Yunkyoung interrupts, something inside of her finally exploding. All of her interactions with Suyun—all the teasing, the mocking, the taunting—rush through her head in rapid succession, flooding her with hurt. And now Suyun has the gall to _apologise,_ as if she somehow didn’t mean anything by it? “Every time I see you, you’re just like, reminding me of my shortcomings. First it’s my height, then it’s my academics, then…” _The thing I hate the most about myself._ “Like, how _else_ did you think I would feel? Flattered? I know you hate me, but you can’t pretend you didn’t—”

“That’s not true,” Suyun interrupts, sounding so offended that Yunkyoung actually breaks off to stare. 

“Huh?” 

“Of course I don’t hate you, what the hell?” Suyun snaps, sounding outraged. Yunkyoung’s anger wavers, replaced with confusion. “Who could even _do_ that? And you’re not even that short, and it’s not even a _bad_ thing, for fuck’s sake.” She looks positively irate now, waving her cup around in sharp, agitated gestures. “You’re a stupid, short, old-fashioned loser and it’s _cute._ How the hell could I _hate_ you?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re—”

“And anyway,” Suyun continues, face flushed, drink still sloshing back and forth in her hand, “I only bully you ‘cause you’re so damn _pretty_ all the time.” 

Yunkyoung freezes. “What?”

Suyun’s eyes are dark and heavy, staring straight into Yunkyoung’s with all the intensity of a storm. “Because,” she repeats, her voice a low murmur, “you’re _so damn pretty_ all the time.”

 _Fuck,_ Yunkyoung thinks.

And it’s the dance showcase all over again.

Suyun’s gaze is relentless, her cheekbones sharp, the curve of her lips soft and hypnotic. Distantly, Yunkyoung feels herself swallowing, a thick gulp that does nothing for the dryness in her throat. She thinks of Juri; of Suyun’s not-quite-insults; of Suyun’s laughter; of Suyun, in general. The world reels around her. 

She breaks eye contact, trying to hold onto her anger. “O-okay,” she stammers, “but that’s no reason to—”

“I know,” Suyun sighs, looking down. A lock of hair falls over her eyes, striking Yunkyoung with the sudden, inexplicable urge to brush it away. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t true, either way.”

Yunkyoung blinks. “Oh, you mean…?” 

“Yesterday.”

“Well, I dunno,” Yunkyoung hears herself say. _Don’t forgive her so easily!_ her brain screams, but the words just keep coming. “It wasn’t…totally wrong, either. I was just a little, uh, sensitive at the time. I know…” She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath. “I know I’m not really that great at anything.”

The confession is liberating, if also somewhat depressing. It’s good to get the words out of her head. Yunkyoung is okay with this. Yunkyoung does not feel like crying. Yunkyoung is—

“No, you are,” Suyun says, a sudden firmness to her voice. Yunkyoung’s head jerks up; Suyun’s face is closer than she’d remembered, her eyes intense, almost reverent. “Just you, being you. You’re so,” she whispers, breath sweet with the smell of punch, “unbelievably,” she persists, lips parting, _“great.”_

And then, all at once, Yunkyoung is overwhelmed. Delirium, anger, shock, and now this awful, tingling _want_ —it takes everything she has not to keel over instantly, to let the world just fade into the distance. She’s too exhausted to even register what she’s feeling; her mind is a mess of fatigue and alcohol and contradictory emotions.

“I’m going to find Yeonhee,” she mumbles, walking off. This time, she doesn’t wait for a response.

Finding Yeonhee is easy. Her roommate takes one look at her and whisks both home, murmuring reassurances all the while. It’s blocking out Suyun that’s the real challenge—try as she might, Yunkyoung can’t seem to forget the warmth of her breath, the force of her eyes.

Something feels changed. The fluttering feeling in Yunkyoung’s gut is just too nerve-wracking for her to want to know what. 

The knock on Yunkyoung’s door the next day is so soft she nearly misses it.

“Yeonhee?” she calls from her desk, frowning. It’s only noon; her roommate should still be busy with one of her billion extracurriculars. She shuffles to the door, pulling it open with a yawn. “Didn’t you have, like, a meeting or something—”

She stops.

The person at the door is tall, slim, weirdly jumpy, and most definitely not Yeonhee. Yunkyoung looks up, about ten centimetres higher than she was expecting to, and meets the nervously darting eyes of the very same person she’s been trying not to think about all day. 

_Jesus, you’d think this was a fanfiction or something,_ she thinks wearily. She’s barely had enough time to comprehend their last meeting, let alone prepare for another.

“Um, hi,” Suyun says, one meek hand raised in greeting. Suddenly Yunkyoung feels exposed, in her sweatpants, T-shirt, and cheap cartoon socks. “Yeonhee said you’d be here, so.”

“I see,” Yunkyoung responds lamely, resisting the urge to cover herself. “Did you need something, or…?” 

Suyun looks at the floor, licking her lips. Yunkyoung finds herself following the movement, until— _no, stop that,_ her brain interrupts. “I actually just wanted to, um, talk?”

_Talk?_

The previous night flashes vividly through Yunkyoung’s mind. Somehow, she still hasn’t managed to gather coherent thoughts about any of it. Not that she can’t, more that she’s just somewhat too afraid to try; anything involving Suyun always seems to end in frightening uncertainty.

Still:

“Sure,” she hears herself say, opening the door wider. “Come in, I guess.” _The fuck are you doing?_ her brain interrupts again, but it’s too late—Suyun is already thanking her, walking through the doorway, and lowering herself into Yunkyoung’s desk chair as carefully as if it’s a bomb.

They sit in silence for a little while. Yunkyoung trains her eyes on her feet, trying not to think about Suyun’s warm hand, knit brow, lips. Memories of Suyun’s apology rush through her head, somehow just as strange now as they were last night.

 _I should probably say something,_ she thinks, but it’s another ten seconds before she actually plucks up the courage to open her mouth.

“So, you wanted to tell me something…?” she asks, eyes venturing upwards, then widening—because what the hell, is Suyun _crying?_

Not exactly, she realises after a second, but the answer may as well be yes; Suyun’s hands are fisted tightly in her lap, her lips quivering, the gleam of something wet taking shape across her eyes.

 _Shit, I didn’t realise she cared this much,_ Yunkyoung thinks, feeling strange.

“I know I’ve…” Suyun’s voice wobbles, and she cuts off. She clears her throat, meets Yunkyoung’s eyes, and tries again. “I know I’ve said…a lot of stupid things. And now _you_ know—at least, I hope—that I, uh, didn’t mean them. But I still…” She swallows, loudly, but doesn’t look away. “I didn’t realise that you felt like that about it, and…”

It’s the first time Yunkyoung’s seen her like this—raw, completely open, eyes visibly watering. _I hate this,_ she thinks, and then blinks, because it’s truer than she had expected. She _likes_ normal Suyun. She likes Suyun flirting; she likes Suyun dancing; she likes Suyun laughing, even at her expense.

“I’m really sorry,” Suyun whispers, and Yunkyoung realises with a start that she’s already forgiven her.

“It’s okay.”

Suyun blinks. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she says simply. “You’re an idiot, but I forgive you.”

Suyun lets out a startled laugh. “Wow, thanks,” she says, rolling her eyes. Then, more seriously: “Really…thanks.”

Something in Yunkyoung’s chest, some tension she hadn’t noticed, seems to loosen and rise out of her like a bubble. “Friends?” she asks, in the mood for clichés. She extends a hand.

Suyun sniffles, shakes herself, and takes it. “You’re talking like I haven’t already drunkenly confessed to you, but sure.” Yunkyoung drops her hand like she’s been burned. “Sorry, ignore me,” Suyun says, though she sounds more amused than apologetic. _More like her usual self, then,_ Yunkyoung thinks with relief. “Then, um…now that I’m here anyways, maybe we could also rehearse the presentation?”

“So you _did_ have ulterior motives,” Yunkyoung mutters, but she’s smiling.

Suyun laughs. “Duh.” Then she freezes. “Ah—wait—no, I’m just kidding, please don’t take that to heart—”

“Oh my god, I am not that fucking fragile.”

They end up rehearsing for a total of five minutes before falling into a heated argument over whether Light Yagami is a Byronic hero, which then of course leads to rewatching as much of Death Note as possible until Yeonhee gets back. It’s all very comfy, Yunkyoung decides, and any reluctance she still had to enjoying Suyun’s company melts away. She feels warm in a way she hasn’t felt for a while; whatever it means that Suyun started it, Yunkyoung’s happy she did.

“See you tomorrow, then,” she says nearly five hours later, leaning against the doorframe as Suyun bends down to tie her shoes.

Suyun says nothing, working her laces in silence. She straightens up when she’s done, meeting Yunkyoung’s eyes with an odd kind of resolve.

“Just so we’re clear, I _do_ like you, by the way,” she says matter-of-factly. Yunkyoung looks down, feeling her cheeks grow hot. “Like, it’s not just that you’re pretty. You’re hardworking, and kind, and really sincere, and you don’t take shit from _anyone,_ myself included. It’s like you’re always just doing what you want to do. Which is amazing.”

The heat intensifies; Yunkyoung wishes she had some kind of scarf to hide her face in. “I, uh, I’m not sure—”

“Oh, _and_ you’re really pretty, of course,” Suyun continues ruthlessly. “Like insanely pretty. Like stunning. Like a literal goddess. Like I could wax poetry about your jawline. So…yeah, I like you.”

By this point Yunkyoung’s cheeks feel so hot that she thinks they could single-handedly melt an iceberg. “Thanks,” she mumbles helplessly. “I…uh, you…” She trails off, thinking of how Suyun smiles and laughs and flirts and always has a way to brighten the room. “…I like your dancing,” she finishes pathetically.

Suyun rolls her eyes. “Don’t force it,” she says dryly. Then she grins, two fingers raised in farewell. “Okay, see you tomorrow!”

“See you,” Yunkyoung echoes. She lingers in the doorway until the footsteps fade, letting the warmth in her face settle to something more manageable. She was right—as usual, Suyun has sent her life stumbling out of balance, but this time she finds that she doesn’t really mind it.

It is midnight. The room is pitch-black, curtains drawn, two occupants swaddled in blankets on either side of the room.

“Hey, Yeonhee?”

Silence.

“You better not be fake sleeping on me.”

A groan. _“What?”_

“If I, say, like spending time with someone, and think they’re really pretty, and admire them a lot, and sometimes think about their like, lips and hands and stuff…does that mean that I, you know, _like_ them? Even if there were, uh…complications beforehand?”

More silence.

“Yeonhee—”

“You’re asking that rhetorically, right?”

“Huh?”

“Like there’s no way that’s a real question that you’re keeping me up to ask, _right?”_

A mystified pause. “Sorry, you lost me.”

A world-weary sigh. “Yunkyoung. _Yes._ It means you like her.”

“Oh, wow, okay, who said anything about Suyun—”

“Literally nobody?”

“But didn’t you just…ah. Fuck.”

Yunkyoung stares silently up at the ceiling, letting her thoughts swirl until they reach their final, devastating conclusion.

 _Fuck,_ she thinks again. _Fuck._

“Oh, hey, don’t think about it too much.” Her roommate’s voice is softer this time. “No need to make things weird—you don’t want to mess up the presentation, after all.”

“Yeah, okay.”

But she can't really _not_ think about it anymore.

As it turns out, the presentation goes pretty well anyways. They manage to keep the class’s attention, get a thumbs up from Mr. Nam, and return to their seats with the confidence that (probably) neither of them will fail the course. Suyun even whispers an only half-teasing “Nice job, partner!” in her ear when they’re done, making Yunkyoung feel warm in all kinds of interesting ways.

 _Weird that it’s over,_ she thinks as the presentations go on, letting slides about Wordsworth, Coleridge, and Blake drift idly in and out of her brain. She glances over at Suyun, who’s still watching their classmates in rapt silence.

 _I like you too,_ Yunkyoung thinks at her, then cringes. A whole night to prepare, and she still can’t even _think_ it without wanting to die. Not that that makes it any less true—upon reflection, she’s realised that she likes Suyun kind of depressingly a lot. Suyun is unbearably attractive, unbearably bright, unbearably even, like, not _that_ bitchy—

“What?” Suyun asks curiously under her breath, and Yunkyoung realises that she’s been staring.

“Nothing,” she mutters sheepishly, looking away. With a pang, she remembers that they won’t have as many excuses to meet up anymore. Weird how things change—she used to treat meeting Suyun as roughly equivalent to torture, but now, knowing that it won’t happen as often makes her feel oddly empty.

It’s with this in mind that she packs her bag at the end of the lesson, eyes down. She should say something, she knows; the situation isn’t as dire as she’s making it out to be. But…how? 

Hey Suyun, I had fun watching anime with you yesterday. Hey Suyun, I actually _do_ like talking to you most of the time. Hey Suyun, your performance at the dance showcase still occasionally haunts me. Hey Suyun, you’re not the asshole I thought you were, and I actually kind of want to spend more time with you. Like…romantically. 

_Fuck it, I’m not doing this right now,_ Yunkyoung thinks resignedly. With a quiet sigh, she picks up her bag and takes a step towards the door.

A hesitant tap on her shoulder pulls her up short. She turns, coming face to face with Suyun, who’s still fidgeting in place amid the throng of exiting students. Chewing her lip, scratching her neck, looking away—Yunkyoung feels like she’s seen this bashful side of Suyun more times than should be physically possible. 

“Um, Yunkyoung,” Suyun starts. “This might be a little sudden, but I kind of wanted to ask if, um…” 

There’s a light pink tinge to Suyun’s cheekbones; Yunkyoung feels her heart speed up. “Yeah?”

“I mean, that is, I might be reading this wrong,” Suyun continues hurriedly, “but. Um. Now that we won’t be meeting for the presentation anymore, do you wanna, like…get lunch sometime?” 

The first thing Yunkyoung wants to say is _holy shit._ And then _fuck yeah,_ and then _well thank god I didn’t have to initiate anything,_ and then—wait, crap, what if— “Wait, just so we’re clear, you _are_ asking me out, right?”

Suyun gives her a supremely unimpressed look. “No, I’m just looking for someone to eat lunch with,” she drawls. Then she softens. “Of course I’m asking you out, idiot.”

“Call me an idiot one more time and I’ll break down in the library again,” Yunkyoung threatens, but even she can feel the brightness of her smile. “Idiot.”

“I’m not hearing a no,” Suyun says, grinning.

Yunkyoung rolls her eyes. _“Yes,_ I’ll go out with you,” she says, a little more fondly than she was intending.

If Suyun’s smile at this point could be harnessed as an energy source, Yunkyoung thinks it could power a whole country. It’s stretched out probably as many inches as is physically possible, but now Yunkyoung finds that rather than wanting to die, it makes her—god forbid— _happy._

“Okay,” Suyun breathes, almost giddily. “Okay. Shit, okay.” After a happy, somewhat calculated pause, she reaches out a hand. “Friends?” she asks mockingly, but this time Yunkyoung can sense the intention behind it. 

“A little more than that, I’d hope,” she snorts, taking Suyun’s hand in hers. The tingling of their palms pressed together feels like the start of something.

So Juri wasn’t wrong, then. Or Yeonhee. Or, god, even Dahyun. There was never anything particularly complex about their situation; they’re just two idiots who’ve been stuck in a preschool-level tirade since the start of university.

They reach the door. “You know,” Suyun starts conversationally, “now that I’m actually holding your hand, you’re even shorter than I—”

“Shut up,” Yunkyoung interrupts swiftly, and the sound of Suyun’s laughter echoes like music through the hall behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> (yes the title is taken from the fireworks lyrics bc im lazy and couldnt think of anything else besides literally 2yun university au)
> 
> so i've been meaning to write rcpc fic for a really long time now, and started writing this kind of on a whim a few months ago. thanks for reading! also just wanted to say thanks as always to my forever fic buddy [moonfishes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonfishes) and other stupid friend who has read this too many times - literally i would not get anything done without you <333
> 
> edit: quick disclaimer, if you like someone please do Not behave like suyun, upon rereading this with a friend i have realised that she comes off a bit meaner than i had initially envisioned. please do not say hurtful things even if you are joking!!! bullying is bad!!! yep


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